Gods and Monsters
by Unlimited Blade Works
Summary: And So The Hunt Begins Again.


**Gods and Monsters**

**Chapter One: The Madness of Moonlight **

**Authors Notes-**

So I haven't posted anything for over two years at this point. I guess when things start picking up you just drop everything to deal with them.

I can't say I'm back for sure, but a Bloodborne crossover has been bouncing around in my head for years as its one of my favourite games of all time. So since I had some spare time over the last few days I figured I'd put some of it to paper as it were.

Anyway enjoy, or don't.

**Story Start-**

Waking was a slow thing. Though admittedly it lacked the pain Harry believed he would have upon waking. After all one did not take a Basilisk fang in the arm and expect to wake up without at least some ill effect. He rather thought that waking up would be painful if anything. Well that was assuming he woke up at all.

_First you'll need a contract._

Green eyes cracked open each second forcing them just a little wider. There were flowers. Almost luminous in the light of the setting sun. Blanketing the ground he was sleeping upon. The hillside he lay upon was covered in them lending the air an unmistakable scent. Sweet, and yet savoury. With just the merest hint of something else. Something Harry could not quite put his finger on. But it was clearly there none the less.

_Good. All signed and sealed._

An old wrought iron fence to his right with a building almost overgrown with greenery standing just behind it. A row of weathered stones sat near him. Harry's mind studiously avoiding acknowledging that they were clearly gravestones.

_Oh I wouldn't worry too much._

Despite the unfamiliar landscape, and the situation at large. Harry found it almost impossible to convince his body to move. Though his right hand refused to let go of the sword upon the ground next to him. It was a long thing. Taller than even his gangly fifteen year old frame. Ornate without being ostentatious. A long and thick blade meant to cut through even the toughest of hide. Splitting skin, muscle, and bone all equally easily.

However it was also clearly in a state of disrepair and had been for quite some time. Half of it's guard was missing. Seemingly broken off by some unimaginably strong force. One side of the blade was almost non-existent. Chipped and scraped down until it was little more than jagged metal more than a blade. The other side was full of chips and cracks but seemed to hold a keen edge despite that. The only thing he could make out of the designs that used to hold a place near the guard was at its very center. Almost hidden under rust and ruined metal. The sigil of a wolf howling.

_Well if anything were to happen._

Harry heaved a sigh. This place, wherever it was, was steeped in a serene atmosphere. Enough to make even his makeshift bed upon the hill side a fine place to rest. Perhaps it was something to do with the flowers? There particular smell was almost intoxicating. So different from anything he had ever experienced before and yet there was a familiarity there. As though there smell was something he had known all his life.

_Perhaps it would be best..._

"Oh...Good Hunter are you well?"

The words, and the accent with which they were spoken were more than enough to startle. Harry's head whipped around to his left. Sitting there under the glow of the setting sun was a woman. Almost hauntingly beautiful in her appearance. As though her features were just slightly too perfect to be truly human. She was pale and perfect in ways that other women simply weren't. Her dress was well cared for and of obvious craftsmanship. A warm shawl keeping out the chill that Harry had only just noticed seeping into his bones. She was settled on the ground next to him hands clasped in her lap.

Sleep evaporated.

Her hands. Each finger clearly segmented in a way that human hands simply were not. Her face while beautiful was like porcelain. Flawless. Undeniably. Beautifully. Flawless. But not human. Never human. She was more like a caricature of what an idealised woman would be. But not human. Never human.

"I am a Doll." Her voice was low. Her accent untraceable. Lips too full to be anything less than perfect pulled up into the smallest of smiles. "Here to look after you in this dream." The Doll stated, and Harry felt his skin crawl. How she managed to move her mouth so cleanly and easily was a mystery. In the Doll's hand he could see the almost imperceptible gears and joints that allowed movement. But her face betrayed none of that. Staying so impossibly, so inhumanly, perfect.

Keeping that same small smile the Doll stood in a single fluid motion that once more betrayed her inhumanity. And Harry scrambled to do the same. The sword never leaving his right hand even as the weight of the weapon threatened to pull him off balance.

An unfamiliar thing and yet it felt almost right in his grip. A feeling of unexplainable comfort welled in his chest even as the inhuman thing caused his teeth to grit. The Doll was tall. It was the first thing that came to mind as Harry fully gained his footing. He was certainly not the tallest in his year. Just barely scraping a little over five and a half feet. Yet the Doll towered over him by at least full foot more than likely it was a fair bit more than just that.

It only added to his uneasiness.

"Over time countless Hunters have visited this dream." The Doll stated as she moved slowly towards the wrought iron gate. Pausing only long enough to ensure he was following behind her. "These graves stand in their memory. The Little Ones tend to them, and care for the Hunter's that visit this place."

"Dream?" Harry's voice barely slipped past his lips. "I'm dreaming?" A question he intended not to be heard, nor answered. But it seemed the one leading him through this quiet and calm place heard him none the less.

The Doll nodded but once, and kept walking the cobblestone path towards the small cottage. One that was far less overgrown than a first glance had implied. All around them the flowers grew. There strange scent both calming, and yet set his teeth on edge. There was no sound but the wind and the sharp click of their shoes upon stone. The sword, awkward and yet comforting, rested on his shoulder.

"I believe they have a gift for you." The Doll stated her voice low as she inclined her head towards a grave. Harry's throat constricted. There was no question that he was dreaming. Grey, wrinkled skin like a waterlogged corpse. Eyes either missing or unseeing. Teeth missing or simply never existing to begin with.

A monstrous parody of a child.

The Little Ones moaned. Spindly corpse like fingers reached for tattered robes. Gap toothed smiles upon their faces. Harry swallowed his mouth dry. His mind feverishly trying to understand what was going on around him. Yet his heart did not hammer inside his chest as it did with the Basilisk. He felt no fear only revulsion. The serenity of the dream was all consuming. Wrapping him in a thick blanket of calm keeping him from panic. Yet still his teeth were grit, and Harry felt on edge.

"I...I want to wake up." Harry meant for his words to be heard this time. The Doll simply tilted her head confused. As the corpse infants grasped his robes.

"I want to wake up!" Harry demanded. The Doll's expression changed not at all. Harry breathed deeply preparing to repeat his demand. To be set free from his horrible dream. He smelled the flowers once more there scent both savoury and yet sweet. But now he could finally understand the single piece that was missing from the puzzle.

They smelled like the sweet and savoury. Like sharp, and yet soothing, scent of Moonlight.

_That you simply think it all a bad dream._

**XXX**

It had taken a long time for Harry to calm down. The Doll didn't understand why he disliked the Little Ones. Perhaps she couldn't? In the end it was a moot point. Though while the corpse like infants certainly made Harry uncomfortable. They did indeed come baring gifts. A small bell that according to the inhuman Doll 'reached out into the cracks between time', an empty leather bound journal and a gun.

Harry was sorely tempted to shoot himself.

After all this was a dream, and you woke when you died in a dream. Or so he remembered being told at any rate. The gun was an old thing though clearly well cared for. The mechanisms well oiled and carefully maintained. The hit of a single lever unhinged the barrel from the rest. A hidden mechanism within ejecting anything inside and allowing it to be loaded once more. The Doll had informed him that so long as he had bullets the gun would reload itself each and every time he flicked the barrel back into place.

He had been tempted to shoot her.

Instead he fired harmlessly into the air. Strangely perfect, and unsightly inhuman or not. The creature that wore the expressions of a woman had been kind to him. Shooting her would have been a poor way to reward that kindness be this a dream or not.

The Doll had not lied.

The gun reloaded itself with the large bullets he was now carrying in a pocket. They jingled every time he took a step. She called them Quicksilver. Harry wasn't quite sure what that meant. Nor what in the word his subconscious was trying to tell him with this queer dream. The Doll did not know how to make more bullets. Though apparently a man named Gherman also resided in this Hunter's Dream. A friend to Hunter's and their keeper. He could help Harry further.

But the doors to his cottage were locked up tight. No amount of pounding on them convinced Gherman to throw them open. Eventually Harry simply gave up. The Doll had told him that in order to awaken from the dream all he need do was pray to one of the head stones. The corpse like figures of the Little Ones danced around it.

Harry wondered if she ever found the ways of the Dream strange. Or if perhaps the Doll took comfort in the strange logic she knew so well. His eyes closed before the head stone. Apparation had yielded him nothing. The magic that allowed one to move from place to place with ease refused to allow him to budge so much as a single step. For but a second Harry felt lighter and the small ringing of a bell sounded in his ears.

When green eyes opened.

He was still dreaming.

It was a surgery, or at least he assumed so. There were beds laid out much like the Hospital Wing. But they were old, rusted, and rickety. Machinery of some medical nature he could not decipher stood around them. All covered in a thin layer of dust. Before him was a lantern. The Little Ones around it making his skin crawl even as the smiled up at him.

A sound came from the room beyond as though someone, or something large had moved within. Harry felt his mouth go dry even as his heart sized in terror. The aroma was pungent in way that made him want to gag. It was almost enough for a man to lose his lunch. The smell of copper intensified as whatever was in the room came towards him.

Green eyes flicked about looking for a way out. The room he was inside could be considered small at best. But behind him a staircase towards a door that he dearly hoped wasn't locked. A growl came from the doorway on his left and Harry's head whipped towards it realising that the sounds of the large thing in the next room had gone silent for several seconds.

Eyes of silver that seemed to radiate malice. Thick black fur and claws longer than his arm. Teeth filed to vicious points stained red. Strips of something that Harry's brain refused to identify nestled between more than a few. It's dimensions were all wrong. Less like a wolf, or even a werewolf. More like some sickening caricature of both. Born from all the ill things that lurked deep within the frames of men.

The sword in his right hand and the gun in his left were all but forgotten. Harry spun and raced towards the stairs intent upon bounding up them and placing at the very least a door between his body and the monster behind him.

He didn't make it very far.

**XXX**

A single gasping breath was wrenched down his throat as Harry shot upright. In a field surrounded by flowers. The Doll once more at his side. The sweet yet savoury scent of Moonlight slipped inside him. The Doll greeted him once more. Her inhuman face and voice just as perfect as the last time. Her accent unplaceable, and yet her tone calm and soothing. Harry had not been able to bring himself to truly ask about this Hunter's Dream. This time his desire to leave and never return did not still his tongue.

"This Dream is a sanctuary for Hunters. A place of comfort and healing. No matter what may befall you in the waking world, you are bound to the Dream. Just as it is bound to you. Do not be afraid Good Hunter. You will awaken, and hunt Beasts. And I will be there for you." The Doll stated her voice warming slightly at the end. Even as Harry could feel his skin crawl with her gaze.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed in that place. With the scent of Moonlight suffusing everything. Washing away his pain, anger, rage, despair, anxiety, and in place leaving contentment and calm. But all things had to end. The doors to the cottage stayed closed to him and while the Doll sat in silence he could feel her gaze upon him always. Most of all however was the sword in his right hand. Taller than even himself, a weapon he could barely move properly with only one hand. It was familiar and yet strange. Harry had never been one for weaponry but he knew its type as well as he knew his own name.

Greatsword

A weapon meant for fighting, and killing things far larger, and far, far stronger that the wielder. It's blade tempered to a sharp point meant for prying away hardened scales and hide allowing the weapon to sink deep into the flesh of the foe and drink deep of their blood. It's edge honed to that of a razor. The sheer weight of the weapon combined with its unnaturally sharp edge allowing it to smash through such paltry things like stone scales or bone. As though a knife gliding through water. It's cross guard thick and tough. Made of a metal Harry had no name for, and yet knew was strong enough to turn aside any attack. So long as the parry was correctly timed.

A blade meant for a knight.

One with an unbreakable will of steel.

Harry shook his head the thoughts of Stone Scales and the Knight leaving his head as though mist before the noonday sun. The feelings radiating out from the sword however was unmistakable. Disgust. Rage. Anticipation. How an object could even have feelings. Let alone communicate them was unknowable to Harry and yet the sword did so none the less. It was disgusted at his cowardice when he sought to run rather than stand and fight. Enraged at defeat despite that. And anxious for the fight that would redeem him. The weapon almost quivered with barely suppressed bloodlust.

And so Harry James Potter kneeled before the headstone once more and slipped from one Dream and into another.

The sounds of something large once more heard in the room beyond. His place of awakening was the same. A lamp post with bells that rang clean and clear even while the wood around it seemed to roll and twist like water. The Little Ones were ignored in favour of the door way. Whatever it was had taken him by surprise once before he was not going to let it happen again. The gun was held tightly in his left hand even as he braced himself knees sinking in anticipation of impact. Hopefully he could bait the beast into running itself onto the sword.

Harry did not need to wait long for the monster to return. Green eyes met silver as it slipped towards him and seemed to know that it no longer had the element of surprise. The monster roared. The sound shaking Harry down to his bones as fear coiled in his gut even as it charged forwards. The gun trembled in his hand even as he brought it to bare. The trigger was pulled. The sound amplified by the small area he was within. But before he could even begin to eject the spare bullet the wolf like thing ate the distance between them with long loping strides. The gun fell from nerve wracked fingers even as his left hand joined his right upon the hilt of the blade.

Heedless of the danger before it the monster pressed on. Leaping at the boy before it. The sword was thrust his form weak, but serviceable. The weight of the oncoming nightmare pared with the thrust easily split the monster's hide like silk. Harry froze even as crimson ichor poured from the wound opened upon the belly of the best.

He had frozen.

The Beast had not.

In the split second between being impaling his enemy and his mind returning to fully working order the beast swung its claws.

Harry never felt the blow that killed him.

**XXX**

Again.

A claw through the throat.

Again.

Torn open from behind.

Again.

Head crushed.

Again.

Disemboweled.

Again.

Bleeding out.

Again.

Stabbed in the stomach.

Again.

Eaten alive.

Again.

Spine severed.

Again.

Throat torn out.

Again.

Lungs punctured.

Again.

Liver torn open.

Again!

Again!

Again! Again! AGAIN! AGAIN!

Each death a lesson.

Each awakening a curse.

Harry could feel it. Madness coursing through his veins. When he first died he screamed, then he cried. Bargained for freedom from the Dream with a God who clearly wasn't listening. Then he died. Again. And again. And Again. AND AGAIN. Screaming turned to chuckling. Crying turned to laughter. Bargaining turned into a cackle that even the Doll seemed to find unnerving.

Yet time and time again. He chose to wake. To look death itself in the eye and attempt to kill it once more. Perhaps it was the Doll and her inhuman perfection that drove him to seek out another place. Perhaps it was the Little Ones. Their milk white bodies bringing up dark thoughts of the waterlogged corpses of children. Perhaps it was the strange blade and it's lust for the blood of beasts.

Or maybe.

Just maybe.

His madness was caused by the sweet and yet savoury smell of Moonlight.

**XXX**

How many times had it been now? Did it even truly matter any longer? The growl of the Beast came from the next room. Just like all the times before it had not yet caught his scent. It wouldn't take long however of that he was sure. His enemy had almost all of the advantages.

It had better senses than he did, or at least better senses of hearing and smell. It knew the area better than he did. Though with how many times he had been here now perhaps that was no longer true. But it was certainly stronger than he was of that he was certain. Harry James Potter knew that he had but two weapons in this fight he was faster than the beast was at least when it came to avoiding blows. The Wolf like monster could still run him down with ease if it turned into a straight line dash. Of that he was certain. His other advantage was that unlike his foe Harry worked on a level above simple base instinct allowing for him to plan and take advantage in the fight hopefully faster than the Beast.

In a moment of grim humour the fifteen year old acknowledge another advantage he may have. He couldn't die. No matter how many times this played out. No matter how many times he died. He could simply come back and start again, and he would keep starting again until he finally won. Experience had taught him quite clearly that he really didn't have any other options.

The room went silent. He hadn't bothered drawing the gun this time. He'd run out of bullets quite some time ago and with the doors to what the Doll called 'the Workshop' staying resolutely closed Harry had no way to replenish his stock. Instead his hands gripped the blade tightly. It's bloodlust under control even as he felt its anticipation surge once more at the thought of the coming battle. Just as it always did no matter how many times he lost.

Silver eyes like liquid malice met cold green. The Wolf like thing roar and jumped just like it did most times they danced. Harry met its rush with one of his own. Sliding low onto his knees and bracing the blade above him the tip met the beast's soft underbelly and bit deep. Cleaving the beast open from stem to stern.

Before he would have hesitated.

Now he knew better.

Harry was on his feet the second he no longer felt the beast upon his blade. Standing, twisting, and slashing all in one motion. A trained swordsman would have mocked his rough and unpolished technique. A prideful swordsman would have likely added that he used the most inefficient method possible when twisting. Large steps that made him easy to track rather than small steps and twisting using his hips and the balls of his feet. A less prideful swordsman would have likely also said the former, but would have added that there was no denying the effectiveness of the maneuver.

The Greatsword clashed with the beat's claws in a shower of sparks and chips of bone. Harry was pushed back by the first strike but at least he'd managed to avoid being disemboweled. Unfortunately even with his quick hop back he was unable to avoid the follow up sweep at his chest completely. The longest claw on the beast's hand cleaving a deep wound from one side to the other.

Before Harry would have screamed. Now he snarled much like a wolf himself and went on the offensive once more. His sword split the air and cleaved through the beast's shoulder muscles and bones like butter. A spray of blood coated the inexperienced Hunter and warmth surged through his skin as flesh, and muscle knitted back together across his chest. Harry wasted no time in pressing the attack. Cutting across the beast's eyes in a single stroke. The wolf thing scampering away like a whipped dog to avoid the strike and reared up claws spread wide and mouth agape to swallow him whole.

He should step back. Once maybe twice. Let the attack miss completely then go in for the kill. The back of the beast's head should be exposed a quick stab might get the job done. If not, and the opening was there he could try beheading the thing by moving to the side first.

_'Foolish'_ The word brushed against his consciousness so lightly that Harry couldn't rightly be sure he'd even heard anything. The only real certainty that something was off. Was quite simply the fact that his body had apparently decided to listen to someone, or something, else for a few seconds. Instead of stepping back he stepped forward matching the timing of the beast.

As the wolf like thing came down Harry's right foot hit the floor in a powerful lunge putting his full weight behind the chipped and rusted blade. The stab impacted cleanly with the beast's head. The combined momentum of the forward moving boy and beast was more than enough to clearly skewer the beast through the base of its jaw and out through the back of the monster's skull.

The weight pushed down on him instantly. However Harry's body was still operating under someone else's directions. His arms twisted to the right even as he stepped to the left. Allowing the corpse to fall off of the blade while he stepped away so as to remove it from the sword and himself from it's landing zone.

It hadn't taken long. The entire 'fight' if it could really be called that had lasted maybe six seconds. Not that Harry was surprised. His other 'fights' had lasted just as long as this one. Maybe less in more than a few cases. His body's movements had been strange and it was the first time that had happened but frankly more and more he was starting to believe in the adage of the Cheshire Cat.

'Oh we're all mad here.'

Harry wasn't sure what was real anymore. Was this dream? Reality? Was he dead? Alive? Was this Hell? God knew he wouldn't call it Heaven. Purgatory? Or had the Basilisk poison simply cracked his mind open like an egg. All he knew was he had to keep moving. The beast had been horrific. But the Doll unnerved him like nothing else.

"Is someone there?" A timid voice called down from above. The landing where the locked door was. A sound he had not heard in the dozens of times he had repeated this moment. The voice was sweet like honeysuckle and yet timid as though the owner was a step away from running. It had been so long since he had spoken to another. The Doll's inhuman perfection made her a conversation partner Harry actively avoiding being engaged with. 

"Yes." It was a rasp. Harry took a moment to recognise the voice as his own. The voice above did not reply for a moment.

"A-are you a Hunter?" The voice was unsure of itself but seemed to be gaining strength.

"No. Just someone caught up in the madness." It was a statement. Not a joke. No matter what the Doll called him. The person on the other side of the door seemed to understand that completely.

"I am sorry. To be caught outside on the night of the Hunt. You have poor luck indeed. But I can not open this door. I may only have a few patients but I won't risk their exposure to the Plague by letting anyone else in." The woman stated Harry just sighed letting his back hit the door and slid down.

"Plague." His voice was raspy and smaller than he ever remembered it being. The silence between them stretched further than before.

"You don't know about the Plague?" The horror in the woman's voice was unmistakable now.

"I only just arrived." This time Harry couldn't keep some black humour out of his voice.

"Then you have my deepest condolences." The woman spoke sounding genuinely remorseful. "But even still I can not open this door and give you sanctuary. I can not risk my patients being exposed to the Plague of Beasts." Her voice held firm even as Harry's green eyes stared into the now dull eyes of the wolf like thing.

"I think that ship may have sailed." His voice was no longer raspy but he could feel something weighing down on him. "I killed a wolf thing at the bottom of the stairs that's probably what you heard. The other voice did not reply for a second. Then a sharp clicking sound as a panel near his former eye level was removed. Being where he was Harry couldn't see the woman but he could hear her curse like a sailor after a second. Even if he wasn't completely sure how she could see down the stairs. Well until he spied a mirror tied to the ceiling giving whoever was inside a clear view of the landing he was sitting on as well as the stairs and the small room he had fought the wolf thing in.

Which its corpse was still occupying.

There was another sharp click as the as the viewing port was closed. Then a second later a dull thud and the door swung open and the woman revealed herself. Her dress was black with a white apron upon the front of it. As though she had stepped out of a text book about nurses and doctors from two hundred years ago.

She was young too.

Not as young as Harry himself but certainly no older than her late twenties. Her hair was a dull brown though clearly that was more from whatever she had been doing before they began speaking than lack of care. Her green eyes were narrowed down at the wolf thing before they turned to him and Harry watched listlessly as a surge of emotions went over the woman's face to fast for him to catch. Before settling on determination.

"What is your name Hunter?" She asked softly. Harry shook his head and forced himself back to his feet. Using the massive blade as a crutch.

"Not a Hunter." He grumbled. The woman looked down to the wolf thing and then back to him.

"You killed the Plague Beast." She stated simply then pointed a single finger at him. "You are a Hunter. Even if you don't think you are." Her eyes softened. "What is your name?" She inquired voice warm like the Doll. But not marred by inhuman perfection, or the accent he still hadn't been able to place.

"Harry." He didn't give a last name and she didn't ask.

"Mine is Isoefka I run this clinic, and unfortunately Hunter I must beg a favour." The woman held out a torch like the one's Harry had often seen in the dungeons of Hogwarts what already felt like a lifetime ago. "I can not allow you entry. After killing that Beast you have too much of it's blood on you for me to let you inside. But I can offer you some help in staying alive this night." A pair of vials were offered along with the torch. "These are a special mixture of my own design. Created using my own blood as the catalyst. They will heal you faster and more effectively than ordinary blood vials. In exchange for them please light the incense that is sure to have gone out at the entrance."

Harry held a hand out and took the two offered vials. He didn't need to ask how to use them. The needle like tip at one end and the plunger at the other made it blatantly obvious. The torch was held awkwardly in his left hand as Isoefka lit it with a nearby lamp. But he couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

"Incense?" The question was obvious in his tone. The older woman stopped as she stepped back towards the door. It never even occurred to Harry to force his way in. This was the first positive conversation he'd had since ending up in this horrific place. It would be a poor repayment to Isoefka to harm her, or her patients for that matter.

"That's right you only just got here." Isoefka muttered lowly. She stopped in the doorway and turned back to face him. "Incense can hold back the beasts. They won't willingly enter a place that has a decent enough stock of it. Well unless they're sure fresh meat is inside. It's why no one is willing to open their doors on the night of the Hunt. Something about the scent is repugnant to them. It's one of the few ways outside of killing them that we've discovered to deal with the Beasts. The incense in the thurible I set up at the front door should have enough inside for the next few hours. I'll go down in four or five hours and make sure its topped up for the rest of the night. Once I'm sure my patients will survive if I don't come back."

"Thank you." The teen said, shouldering the greatsword. The blade seemed to thrum in agreement for a second inside of his mind before going silent once more. As the doctor shut the door and opened the viewing slit. Allowing Harry to see her green eyes crinkle into a smile that seemed both warm and at the same time deeply apologetic.

"No. Thank you Hunter. Please find a place to wait out this Hunt. Yharnam is not a kind place even on the best of days, and tonight will be worse than any other. I can feel it like a spider crawling across my mind. Be safe and if at all possible try to come back here every now and then if you can't find a safe haven to wait out this hunt. There's not a lot I can do for you but I'll try to keep you stocked with blood vials all I can. I have to get back to my patients; good luck Harry." The teen absorbed the words with an almost detached calm. He hadn't allowed himself to hope that she would allow him entry. Hope was something that had seemed to die in this place.

"And you Isoefka." He caught the barest edge of a dazzling smile as the doctor shut the slit. Rolling his shoulders Harry James Potter hefted his torch and left the clinic that had been the sight of so many of his deaths. It hadn't taken long to find the incense that the doctor had been talking about. An orb like thing that smelt of a strange mix of scents that Harry couldn't place. It had been knocked over by something. Probably whatever had let the Beast in to start with. It didn't take long to reignite the incense in the strange metal canister and hang it once more from the hook near the front door. Getting the gate near the front entrance hadn't taken much more effort.

The city streets sprawled out before him like a winding puzzle. He heard the scratching of metal on stone and twisted his blade a little. Making it easier to attack from its current position resting on his shoulder. With a grimace Harry James Potter stepped into the dying twilight of Yharnam.

Soon after he met the locals.

They did not get along.

**XXX**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not a man with a significant amount of spare time on his hands. In between managing his various positions as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. And the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. It left him with precious little time for personal pursuits. This time was about to take even more of a backseat as he observed the diary of one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He had been informed of what exactly had happened down in the Chamber of Secrets by Miss Tonks and Mr Longbottom. Once Mr Potter had woken from his near death experience yet another interview would need to be conducted, and though the fact that Harry James Potter was alive at all surely was cause for celebration. It did not make Dumbledore's heart feel all that much lighter. Given how virulent Basilisk venom was it was surprising that the boy was alive at all. Even with Fawkes' help it was something of a miracle, and not a minor one at that.

That the fifteen year old had been able to kill a thousand year old Basilisk with only a sword was another miracle that Dumbledore was thankful for. Between the efforts of Miss Tonks, Mr Longbottom, and Mr Potter a simple award for special services to the school seemed more than a little lacking. Even if it was all he could offer. Despite his many academic achievements he was not a rich man by any stretch of the imagination.

Blue eyes like chips of ice narrowed at the small diary. He'd suspected for years that Tom had managed to cheat death, and while he was still not sure exactly how that may have come to pass this would be a major break in the case as it were. He would need to do more research on the subject of soul magic. It was a subject he'd never really felt the need to delve into but if nothing else he would likely enjoy learning about it.

There were after all many ways to keep a person alive long after they should have died. The question was the method used. Some were more effective than others. Though they had significantly greater cost associated with them. Which also meant that it was probably where he should start his search rather than end. Tom was always a gifted pupil of that there was no question. However he was always obsessed with the most powerful, or in his own words the 'best' way of doing things.

Regardless of the cost.

Start at the theoretical 'best' way of keeping a person alive regardless of the cost to that person and Dumbledore was fairly certain that he would find out how Tom had gone about cheating death sooner rather than later. Blue eyes roamed the shelves in the Headmaster's office around him. Considering where he should start. Before coming to rest on an old book that had been out of print for almost three hundred years.

Hmm. He wondered if Miss Tonks and Mr Potter, along with Mr Longbottom of course. Had any interest in wandless magic?

**XXX**

Harry stumbled back to his feet even as he lost his lunch. Vomit spreading over the uneven cobblestone paths of the Dream as the Doll called it. He could remember it so clearly. The man, taller than he should be. Arms longer than they had any right to be. Legs overly bent and bowed. More like a Beast than man. A torch in one hand. Upraised axe in the other. It was like his sword and yet not. The axe was chipped and rusted and bent. A crude weapon for a crude man. While his blade still felt solid in a way nothing else did.

A thrum of emotion from the weapon propping him up. Soothing and clean. Like water from a mountain stream. The axe came down and he moved without thinking. Reflexes and reactions honed by the Beast came into play against his hilariously outmatched foe. His sword met the axe. Harry could see it clearly. The crude weapon should have been easily deflected leaving the beast like man open. Instead his blade bit deeply into the half rusted steel and then sheered through it like paper. The monster like man's face mirrored his own. A split second of surprise. Before his head became a separate entity from the rest of his body from his nose on up.

More vomit joined the waste already pooling at his feet. He wished that had been the end. Truly he did. Then the others came. One wielding a cleaver and the other some kind of curved scythe. He didn't want to hurt them. He hadn't wanted to hurt them! But his body moved without his input. Reactions honed by constant deaths and endless lessons of pain decided they did not need conscious input to keep him safe.

The first had found the right side of his chest missing after his initial blow had been dodged. The second had just enough time to scream. Which is what made it so much worse. The words rang through Harry's mind clear as day.

'Please have mercy!' The words were shrill and desperate. Just before his blade had cleaved the man's skull open with almost sickening ease. He didn't know how long he'd spent just looking at the corpses he'd created before moving almost mechanically to a near by lever and pulling. The ladder had been unexpected the lantern at the top all the more so.

Killing the Beast had been 'easier' for lack of a better term. It's monstrous appearance allowing him distance from the act of dealing death. But despite their deformities those people had still been quite clearly men, and killing them made Harry sick to his stomach. Even if shock had prevented him from making it obvious until he was 'safe' again.

A tear escaped one of his eyes. A surprise to be sure. After his deaths against the Beast and all his bargaining, begging and screaming. Harry hadn't been sure that he even had it in him to cry anymore. He didn't know if it made him feel better or worse. A pair of cold arms wrapped around his waist hands settled just below his heart. The hands were inhumanly perfect, white porcelain with clear joints and well hidden gears. A cold chin lay atop his head.

The Doll was inhumanly perfect. Even throughout all those deaths Harry had never warmed up to her. She was somehow too human and not human enough at the same time. An almost instinctual revulsion for something that he couldn't fully understand. But right now he didn't care. Leaning back into the cold embrace and closed his eyes.

"Good Hunter. What troubles you?" The words were said softly and yet warmly. Harry didn't answer for a second ordering his thoughts. Then spoke the Doll didn't say anything as he continued to speak. Simply held him and hummed a strange yet calming tune. Harry slowly felt himself relax the sword no longer propping his body up. Instead held in a gentle yet firm grip by his right arm.

"I see." The words slipped from lips he couldn't see the Doll's strange accent giving them a lilt he couldn't quite place. "Many Hunters have passed through this Dream before you. But none so young. I do not know what The Hunt is like. I can not leave this Dream. But know this Good Hunter. That so long as you are here I will care for you. That is after all my purpose. For now take the weight from you shoulders Good Hunter and relax. Though soon you may return to the waking world for now you are safe." The Doll finished speaking and after a moment began to hum a wordless song once more. Despite his earlier misgivings Harry did not move. The Doll's hands were no longer cold as he swayed in time to the song without words.

All the while soothed by the sweet and yet savoury scent of Moonlight.

**Chapter One- End.**

P.S- If anyone was wondering about that humming, its Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.

Also The Plain Doll Bloodbornes One True MVP.

If anyone was wondering yes that is The Wolf Knight's Greatsword from DS3. As for why Harry has that it won't be answered for awhile.


End file.
